


30 Days of John Sheppard

by erikahk



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 15,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7453810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erikahk/pseuds/erikahk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which I wrote a fic a day for a whole month. All feat. John Sheppard as a main character with or without the team, all hurt/comfort and/or angst fics. (ALL DONE - posted in parts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bite

Green and yellow dots with red and black stripes curled around themselves. Brown blobs rained down. Red splotches stained the dark cloth and dripped over green leaves. Orange flowers were smashed under his weight. 

Trembling hands gripped his thigh. They reached something cold and jagged. It hissed at the contact and it didn’t move away. 

John forced his lungs to work. The tingling at his extremities eased with the gulps of air. Shakily, his hand found his knife. He grabbed it and didn’t let it slide from his sweaty palm.

He sliced its neck, feeling cold blood squishing between his fingers.

The pressure was gone and blood flowed back to his leg. 

John relaxed. Cold and warmth spread throughout his body. He was cool, then boiling, then freezing, then hot all over again. Dark edges claimed his vision. His breathing slowed. His heavy body started to float. Eyes drooped closed and he surrendered to it.


	2. Trouble

Hundreds of water bubbles exploded in front of him. Pain ripped from his leg making him cry out, but only the roar of gurgles reached his ears. His lungs burned. John forced his eyes open and tried again, this time taking some extra care in extracting his leg from under the console. 

His hands shook from exhaustion and oxygen deprivation, but managed to find the panels pinning him down. 

More bubbles burst from his mouth. Sharp edges dug into his calf and sliced it open. Redness tinged the clear water as he pulled his leg away. 

His lungs screamed. Gray edges crept into his vision. Shaking his head, he started swimming towards the rear section. 

Debris floated in his path. They bumped against his leg and more precious air escaped from his airway. 

The manual override lowered the ramp. As light entered the jumper, he saw himself surrounded by stains of red water. 

A dark shadow enveloped him. His brain took a few extra seconds to realize that the creature was still around. 

Water became warmer. A beam of light showed the red water forming one single line away from him. 

And into its mouth. 

Maybe swimming away with a bleeding leg wasn’t the best idea, but waiting around to be eaten was far worse. 

He flopped limbs around and tried really hard not to scream as pain pierced all the way up his thigh. 

Beams of sunlight were the only clue to which way was above. Inching closer and closer to the surface, the tingling progressed to numbness, the gray started to turn into darkness. 

A huge gulp of air was almost overwhelming as he broke free from underwater. He almost sank back in relief. 

Looking around, only salt water surrounded him for miles. 

And in the water, a huge dark shadow swam closer. 

Now it would be a good time for Rodney to show up and get him out of this trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these will end in a cliffhanger. Sorry. (not sorry ;-))


	3. Sound

Gunfire and explosions. John didn’t necessarily like those sounds, but they were part of him. 

They surrounded him and penetrated his ears. 

They filled the air, and deafened him. 

The air was black and gray smoke, the clear blue sky was only a dream beyond it. Red and yellow fire crept into the edges of his vision. 

He blinked slowly. 

The green grass beneath his body had turned into mud long before he had fallen, destroying the footprints and hints of flowers among its shy leaves. 

Blood oozed from his chest. His fingers wanted to wrap themselves and cover the wound, but they barely moved an inch and continued to rest beside him. 

The sounds grew louder. He wanted to turn his head towards them. He needed to know if the increased firing meant his team was still okay. 

That they were coming for him. 

The sound of burning fire was almost silence when the weapons stopped firing. 

And in the silence, a comforting voice.

“We’ll take you home, John.”


	4. Crash

"Hold on!"

Sheppard's words echoed in Rodney's ears as red flames enveloped the windshield of the jumper. Eyes wide in panic, Rodney gripped the wall with one hand, while the other remained at the panel, frozen from its task. He snapped out from the hypnotizing colors of the burning atmosphere, red, lavender and blue, and frantically continued to work around the burned crystals.

The ship trembled continually and he could feel the air getting hotter on the inside. The hand bracing him was white from holding on, but Rodney still had his issues with the shaking ship and couldn't fit the crystals into their slots.

Finally, one slid into place.

"I've got life support back!" he shouted.

Rodney could hear Sheppard's labored breathing as the pilot tried to keep the jumper steady. It was a futile attempt at the moment.

"I'm not really worried about...life support...Rodney!" Sheppard was out of breath, struggling to fly - or, in their current situation, not really much of that - and trying not to bleed to death.

Rodney narrowed his eyes as the crystal insisted in not going into the correct place. "One thing at a time! I'm only one, you know." A more violent quiver made him lose his balance and he hit his head on the wall. "Damn." He glanced at the cockpit to check on Sheppard, happy to find him still not slumped over the controls. 

"Forty...seconds," Sheppard informed.

"Come on!" Rodney let go of the wall in order to use his hand to stabilize the trembling panel. "Yes--yes! I've got it! Inertial dampeners are back online and so is part of flight controls!" 

Rodney scrambled back to the front section, really wishing he wasn't seeing the giant blue ocean of the planet getting dangerously close, dangerously fast.

"Brace yourself, Rodney."

Rodney swallowed and looked at Sheppard's pale features. Sweat covered his face and the big red smear on his torso had turned into a giant red smear. John was hunching and could barely stay upright. Rodney wondered if he should hold the man up to prevent him from falling, but soon realized what a idiot thought it was, since the two of them were probably going to die in exact 10 seconds.

The violent crash sent them forward and against the console, making the splash of water the last thing Rodney heard before darkness claimed him.

\------------

A moan reached his ears. It took Rodney a few seconds to realize the moan was coming from him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times to make sure he was really seeing what the windshield showed. Rodney turned his head up and narrowed his eyes, taking a few seconds too much to realize the jumper was rocking back and forth against the wall of stone he was looking at.

They must have been carried by waves after they crashed.

Rodney sat up, shutting his eyes when all of his midsection hurt. He breathed in and out a couple of times, glad for not feeling any more pain when he did so. At least he didn't have anything broken. Not that the giant bruises were much easier to deal with.

Rodney snapped his head around.

"Sheppard!"

Rodney quickly got up and went over Sheppard's form slumped at the console. Rodney touched his neck and released a relived sigh. He swallowed and knelt by the pilot's chair.

Rodney took a deep breath and slowly raised Sheppard's shirt, finding it drenched in blood. 

"Oh, God." 

The field dressing he had placed on the bullet wound was completely wet. Rodney took a second one from his vest and inserted it under the first, making sure it was keeping the pressure. He tied another knot to make sure the bandage would stay in place. He knew it wouldn't be much good with the bullet still inside the wound, but it was the best he could do.

Rodney decided not to move Sheppard and started checking the jumper's systems. And as he had imagined, they were all dead.

Giving up on any hope of flying away, he went right to the communications system. The Daedalus was orbiting the moon and would only show up in a couple of hours in Rodney's best calculations. A boost in the jumper's comm, with probably an SOS signal, would have them both being beamed up in a matter of minutes.

He hurried to the rear section and turned full circle to find all his tools, thrown all over the place. He glanced once at Sheppard then went to work, snapping up every five minutes to check if the wound was still bleeding. He breathed a sigh of relief when his fourth check showed the same amount of blood in the bandage as the third one.

"What kind of weird magnet do you have that makes all the women want to either kick your ass or shoot you?" he asked the unconscious man. "Anyway, you'll be happy to know that I boosted the jumper's comm system to broadcast SOS in Morse code. It will be enough for the Daedalus to pick it up." Sheppard didn't even twitch. "Now all we have to do is wait."

He had barely finished talking to the sleeping man when a loud thump was heard and the jumper quivered to the side briefly. Rodney braced himself on the controls, then moved to Sheppard to prevent him from falling. The jumper shook again, this time more violently, followed by a roar too close for comfort. Rodney quickly removed the scanner from his vest pocket and saw a dot moving around their two dots. The big dot circled once, then accelerated towards them. The jumper tilted violently to the side, throwing Rodney against the wall, and Sheppard on top of him.

"Oh, crap!"

Rodney held onto Sheppard, protecting the bandages from hitting any stray consoles that wanted to be on their way as they rolled the wall, ceiling, the other wall then floor, boxes and debris following them. Rodney's hand slipped away, and a heavy Sheppard decided that it would be a good idea to roll away, ahead of Rodney. Even when unconscious the man had to be the hero and prevent any hard objects from impacting Rodney. Rodney imagined Sheppard must have a stray objects magnet, because everything seemed to hit him.

The thumping continued for a few moments until the violent roars slowly died off and everything dived to darkness. Rodney blinked and reached for his lamp, shooting light around to look for Sheppard.

He briefly illuminated the windshield and saw a glimpse of rock and dirt. He continued to move the light, seeing a smashed control panel littered with broken crystals and blood and tried really hard not to add up the amount of fluid Sheppard had lost in their little party with whatever that thing had been. He moved on, quickly passing over more broken things on the floor, until he found a black form cuddled with half a dozen supply boxes.

Rodney hurried towards Sheppard and put a finger over his pulse, releasing a breath when he found one. It was thready and fast, but present nevertheless. Rodney uncovered Sheppard from underneath all the objects that were no doubt attracted to his injury, and checked the bandages. They were soaking wet again.

He crumbled his way towards the back of the jumper, throwing boxes away until he found the first aid kit. He went back to Sheppard and removed one of the wet field dressings, replacing it with a handful of gauze . He wrapped all up with another field dressing and more gauze. Just to make sure. Then Rodney proceeded to check for any new injuries, finding dozens of bruises that would cause some misery when Sheppard woke up, but nothing broken, thank God.

Rodney slumped back against the wall, exhausted. It had been a long day since they had infiltrated the alien ship to recover the stolen Ancient equipment. They had thankfully succeeded, but not without sneaking around for half a day, fighting and shooting their way out, running all the way back half carrying an injured Sheppard, only to be shot and nearly electrocuted when they had entered the jumper and then crashing the ship that didn't agree with the energy pulse of the alien vessel. And, just to make this day perfect, a sea monster decided it didn't like that the jumper crashed in its territory.

\-------------

Rodney woke up in a stat with a bright white light enveloping him. When he finished opening his eyes, he found himself inside the Daedalus infirmary while doctors surrounded him and Sheppard. He successfully evaded the lot of them when they found out who was in worse shape and wheeled Sheppard away to emergency surgery.

Rodney stood there with a lone nurse that tended to his bruises, and no amount of glaring and hissing made the woman more careful with the painful purple marks on his chest and abdomen. Cursing and snapping also didn't seem to help. Neither did demanding updates on Sheppard's condition.

Pacing around didn't help his exhaustion and pain, but he couldn't stand still while he waited, and waited, and waited. He faced the surgery room's door and fidgeted with his hands, only to turn and start walking again. Two hours after Sheppard went into surgery, the Daedalus arrived in New Lantea. Ronon and Teyla joined Rodney in the waiting.

Finally, after lots of long hours, Carson emerged from the doors with a smile.

\-------------

Night crawled fast in Atlantis. Rodney sat by Sheppard's bed stubbornly, refusing to obey the brogue telling him to go to his quarters. Jennifer stopped by to and nearly pulled Rodney by his ears out of the infirmary. Both doctors gave up when Ronon and Teyla decided to join the efforts and crossed their arms in defiance.

It didn't take long for Rodney to doze off.

The sun was already up by the time Rodney was snapped up by violent shake on his chair. He nearly fell of his chair, but was caught up by Ronon who wore a very wide grin on his face.

"You could be a little more gentle in waking people up," Rodney said still with the sleeping effects on his voice.

"Tell me about it."

Rodney snapped his head around by the sound of Sheppard's voice.

"Sheppard! You're awake!"

"Yes, due to a choral of loud snoring, thank you." Sheppard smirked tiredly.

Rodney smiled. "Well, next time you might consider not getting shot and making a horrible crash landing on a planet habitated by seas monsters."

"Hey, considering everything, that was a successful landing," Sheppard said as he leaned against the extra pair of pillows Teyla got him. His blinking was slow.

"You crashed!" Rodney yelled.

"Any landing you walk away from is a successful landing."

"What kind of stupid flyboy saying is that?"

"One that makes all my landings good ones." He closed his eyes. "I never crash.," he said as he went back to sleep


	5. Toxic

"Oooowww!" Rodney had to grip Sheppard's vest to prevent him from running away while tears streamed down Rodney's eyes. "Oh, God. You so own me for this."

Sheppard then became a limp dead weight and crashed down on the ground, almost taking Rodney along.

"I'm going to demand a whole year of chocolate for this one, Sheppard!" he said as he knelt by unconscious form. Rodney looked down and saw blood dripping from his nose. "Plus a whole year of pudding for the bleeding nose." His voice was nasal.

Rodney would have pinched his nose to block the flow of blood, but the whole bad guys chasing after them didn't leave time for that. Rodney panted and tried to lift the heavy burden from the floor, feeling complaining muscles on his back telling him that it was a bad idea. But in life or dead situations, Rodney didn't really have the luxury of listening to pain.

After a few more meters which Rodney was too embarrassed to count, he stopped again to rest. Ronon and Teyla were catching up to him, so, once again, he decided to go ahead instead of waiting for them. By their sounds, the primitives were still on the chase with their spears and poisonous darts and Rodney wasn't too keen on feeling the effects Sheppard had.

The last few meters to the DHD were crossed by literally dragging Sheppard by his arms. Rodney panted heavily for a few moments, too light headed to do anything else. When Rodney no longer felt he was going to pass out from exhaustion, he dialed.

The blue vortex was the most beautiful thing Rodney had seen since coming to that stupid planet. Stepping on a very fresh Atlantis almost made him collapse in relief.

The medical staff surrounded Sheppard while the Marines remained in position, waiting for Ronon and Teyla to step through. By the time the rest of the team arrived, Rodney was already following the gurney out of the gate room.

\--------------

Rodney got up the second the infirmary door opened and crossed the few steps between the team and Jennifer.

"So, how is he?" he asked.

"He's been poisoned with a substance I've never seen before, but it's similar enough to a number of toxins from Earth. I believe it will take a couple of days for them to be completely released from his body and I don't really know the kinds of complications we can expect in the meantime."

Teyla stepped forward. "Can we stay with him?"

Jennifer nodded. "Of course."

The team entered the infirmRodney half dragged Sheppard through the jungle while Ronon and Teyla provided cover fire against their attackers. As if it wasn't hard enough to be almost carrying his team leader, the trees were large and heavy foliage blocked most of the way. Rodney also couldn't forget to check his scanner from time to time (without dropping Sheppard) to make sure they were heading towards the right direction.

Rodney puffed. His face was red and sweat dropped from his forehead. The temperature of the forest was high, and the extra exercise wasn't really welcomed.

They stopped behind a tree. "You know," Rodney said while he panted heavily. "You could... try to help... and make those legs... sustain yourself."

He looked at Sheppard, his eyes half closed and face pale and wet. It looked like the man was going to drop any minute if Rodney didn't hold him tightly. He breathed deeply and adjusted his grip around Sheppard's back.

The sounds of Teyla's P90 and Ronon's blaster were beginning to get closer, so Rodney decided that fifteen seconds were enough resting and resumed the part dragging, part carrying, part dropping and nearly falling through the jungle. Sheppard's legs weren't working so well anymore and the sounds coming from him weren't really comforting. They resembled the sounds Rodney usually connected to psychiatric hospitals.

Soft mumbling that didn't make the slightest sense came next, followed by giggling, then a period of panic.

"No, Nnrgh... no, no," Sheppard said as he desperately tried to break free.

Rodney nearly tripped and fell trying to keep Sheppard standing and moving on.

"For Christ's sake, Sheppard! Stop! I'm only--"

Sheppard kept flapping his arms around and hit Rodney on the nose.

ary and settled themselves for the long night.

\--------------

An irregular loud shrieking noise woke Rodney up. He snapped his eyes open and saw Ronon and Teyla already over Sheppard's body as it convulsed violently. Rodney got up from his chair and pushed it back to stand out of the way of the hurrying night shift personnel as they rushed to stabilize Sheppard.

Several needles and one shocking to Sheppard's heart later, the pilot was back to being sound asleep while Rodney doubted his own heart rate would ever decrease. He crashed back into his chair, and couldn't close his eyes for the rest of the night.

\--------------

Or so he thought. Rodney woke up with the first light of morning to see - and also hear - Ronon snorring while he slept somewhat comfortably on a chair on the opposite side of the bed, and Teyla singing softly to a sleeping Torren on her arms. She smiled at him and Rodney rubbed his eyes to remove the rest of sleep.

A moan made Rodney snap his head to look at Sheppard. An eyebrow lifted slightly, followed by a small turn of Sheppard's head. Soon, a frown had appeared on his face and a pair of tired eyes barely slid open.

"Good morning, sunshine," Rodney said as he approached the bed.

More moaning was the answer to that remark. Sheppard's eyes blinked slowly, or so Rodney thought before they didn't go back to being open. The frown disappeared and was replaced by an expression of blissful sleep.


	6. Water

Teyla always thought that there was nothing more relaxing than the sound of water. 

The rain, a well, a tap, a river, the shower from Atlantis, a beach, a balcony overlooking the ocean... 

A lake with a waterfall usually featured on the top of the list. Specially when it was in a small valley surrounded by deep forest with the colors of a tropical paradise. 

The blue green liquid washed away the dirt on her feet and refreshed her hot and sweaty skin. She took some water in her hands and splashed over her body, washing her face and arms. She filled the canteen then drank some of it, immediately feeling its healing effects on her tiredness. 

Stepping onto soft grass, she smiled as she headed back inside the shade of the tent. She was glad to find the inside still fresh from the high temperatures from the day. Teyla put down the bag of fruits and knelt by the sleeping bag. John's body still shook from fever, his brow wet and his face pale. The wet piece of cloth was warm, so Teyla replaced it with a fresh one using the old to clean his face. She tenderly caressed his cheek and wiped the droplets of sweat, careful not to disturb his sleep when she reached the growing hairs on his face. 

She put a hand under his black shirt and found his chest drenched as well. Opening all the buttons, she exposed all of his torso, and cleaned it with fresh water. His temperature was still very hot, but had diminished greatly from when he had started showing the signs of infection. When she was done, she moved to his ankle and lifted the bandage there. The wound was still swollen and red, but the blisters and pus were all gone. She poured water over the injury, cleaned it then dressed it with clean gauze. 

A soft moan snapped her from the task. 

"Teyla..."

She smiled. "John, it is all right. You are safe." She touched the side of his warm face with the back of her hand. "The others will arrive soon."

His eyes didn't open.

"Next time you wake up, it will be in the Atlantis infirmary."


	7. Fire

Pain crept under his skin. He dug his nails into his palm and squeezed his eyes. He wanted to scream.

His throat burned.

His lungs burned.

His whole skin burned.

He wanted to tear it off. He jerked his arms, wanting to break free from the restraints.

He arched his back and released the agonizing yell of pain when he couldn't hold it inside anymore.

The angry red marks on his arms flared. He needed to get them off! To scratch them until there was no more flesh to burn. Take them out. Make them bleed. Hurt and cut and rip it all out. Until there was nothing more to feel. Until he could either sleep, or pass out, or die.

Hot tears made his face wet. They stang his eyes and face. They rolled down his neck and put them on fire too.

His throat was raw and hurting, but he couldn't stop the screaming. It was like being on fire.

No, it was worse than being on fire. Being on fire only hurt until you died.

Something touched him. His shoulder exploded in pain. He whimpered and cried and screamed. He squirmed away. He banged his head against the pillow. The hand moved away.

The flames died off. It still burned him, there, at the back of his head, but it was like paradise. It was like sand. Sand that had turned into embers. But embers he could take. With hot embers he could even fall sleep.

And sleep he did.

Until it started again.


	8. Earth

John limped badly on his way back to the gate. The rain had decreased significantly and all that was left of it was an annoying drizzle that didn't seem to go away. He was freezing cold, wet and, to top it all off, covered in mud. He held off a wince each time he stepped with his left foot, his sprained ankle the most horrible one he had ever had in his life.

Of all the reasons for him to need to go to the infirmary after a mission, a sprain wasn't exactly the most honorable one. It was something he would expect from Rodney or some other geek, but not from the military commander of the lost city of Atlantis. And the fact that he had to hold off tears every time he walked only made it all worse. He wanted to beg for a small stop, but didn't want to lose his last bit of dignity. No, he just wanted to get the hell out of that damn planet already.

Since first arriving on MXG-123, he knew the place was trouble. The very thin rain made everything foggy for miles and miles and Rodney had said it wouldn't stop anytime soon. Then there were the mud pockets, the lakes of slimy brown water, the hidden holes on the ground, and the slippery ravines that had 'trap' written all over them.

Of course, when they had first arrived, John had thought Rodney would be the one getting in trouble. For that reason, John had kept a close eye on his friend and had forgotten to watch his own path.

He was really damn lucky for not having a broken foot. That hole had been deep and narrow, so when he had tripped on it, his foot got stuck and didn't let go. Not even when he had lost his balance and fallen down that muddy ravine.

So, there he was. Miserable, cold, muddy, wet, whimpering and ready to hide in his bunker for at least a day.

When the team reached the DHD, all John could see in that shimmering puddle was his wish of pills, a nice and tight bandage, a hot shower, dry and clean clothes, a warm meal and a very long sleep.

Then, he would think on how to tell Woolsey that he had scratched the mission because of a pissy mood caused by mud.


	9. Air

John ducked behind a strange looking vehicle as another bomb stroke. This time, too close for comfort. The ground shook and smoke with dust and dirt rose around him. Gun fire could be heard ahead of him. It didn’t seem to be diminishing. Damn. He needed to go towards that direction.

He looked above and saw that the sky was no longer. The air was filled with brown and gray smoke, and the yellowish tone of the biological bombs. This world was destroying itself without any help from the wraith. It was hard to imagine how things could go so bad so suddenly.

A rising whine announced the coming of another explosive. He searched the sky looking for a clue of where it would hit.

Shit.

He rose to his feet and raced towards a nearby ruin. When everything shook beneath his feet, he lost his balance and fell, hitting his chin on the ground. Debris rained on top of him.

He coughed as he turned around and looked back at the car he had been using as a cover.

What car? There was only a giant hole in its place.

Another explosion happened above. The sky went red and angry. The air became hot. When John breathed, he felt he was in a very high altitude. It was the warning shot.

He stood up and ran again. He didn’t have much time. Alarms began to sound. A noise incredibly similar to Earth’s tornado and nuclear bomb warnings. 

The gun fire died off.

He had seen what those things did. They came from the air and burned every molecule of it. It incinerated all living things, but left buildings mostly intact. He really didn’t look forward to experiencing it first hand. So, John ran.

His legs burned.

His lungs demanded more oxygen.

The alarm increased.

John could see the stargate getting closer and closer, standing proudly in the middle of tons of rubble around it.

The alarms silenced.

John could barely breathe while he dialed.

As the gate kawooshed, John looked behind.

Crap.

He jumped through just as the bomb stroke.


	10. Rain

He shivered. He looked around the dark alley as he walked slowly, hunched and hugging his chest. He looked up and let the rain drops wet his face. 

Where was he? 

_Who_ was he?

A loud bang on a metal door snapped him around. They were after him. He didn't know who they were or why they wanted to get him, but they did.

He had escaped. When one of them had touched him he had simply reacted. He hadn't really meant to kill the man. He didn't even know how he had done it. It happened so fast.

Snap.

And the man had slumped down on the floor. 

Then there was running. 

Heart pumping. Lungs burning. Legs going so fast. Wild. Desperate. Afraid.

The banging stopped. And it was replaced with a popping noise. Very loud pops. Almost deafening.

He sat behind a giant metal box and hugged his knees. Shivering. He just wanted to go home. 

Wherever it was. 

More water started falling from the sky. His teeth were clattering. 

The noise stopped. He heard the door opening. For some reason he didn't run. 

Then they came. 

There were three. First there was a woman. A small, beautiful woman with long hair. She had a wild look in her eyes, but they turned tender once she saw him. She smiled and approached carefully. He saw relief in her eyes. 

There was also a big man. He was huge. His eyes were feral. But they also changed. Worried. With a hint of something dark. And something caring too. 

And there was another man. Less hair than all of them. He had bright blue eyes. They looked wet. A little desperate and worried. They were wide. 

And they all turned from angry to... something else. 

And they were there for him. He knew it. He didn't remember who these people were, but he trusted them. He knew they would take him home.


	11. Snow

His fingers twitched. Then his hand. It was wet. No, it was cold. Or maybe both. Cold and wet, probably.

John slowly opened his eyes. Oh, yes, that's where he was.

The sky was white. It was chilly. He could see his breath. He tried moving his body.

It didn't work.

He tried again. He managed to bend himself so very slightly, and immediately regretted it. Pain exploded in his mid-section. He collapsed back down, squeezing his eyes and fighting back tears. Then he remembered.

Yes, he was wet. It was not the snow melting beneath him. It was blood. Blood because he had been shot. It must be a lot because things were starting to go gray again.

Why was he alone? He didn't want to die alone. That's what was happening, wasn't it? When you are tired and cold and weak and can't move your body anymore. It means you are dying. Then you slowly close your eyes, without meaning to, without even realizing. And then you don't open then again.

"Sheppard! He's here! Guys! I found him!"

There was a voice. Distant. He couldn't make it out. Why was the voice so quiet? It sounded like Rodney, but Rodney never spoke so softly.

Maybe he's far away. John had to call him. He had to let Rodney know where he was. So John wouldn't be alone. So they would know where to find him. And take him home.

He wanted to call out. His lips didn't move.

"Hey, Sheppard, hang on. Hear me, John?"

 _Rodney. I'm here._ John's lips still didn't move. He wanted to scream.

_Can you see me? Please, see me, please._

"Why did you have to do that? It was stupid! Hear me! Stupid!"

John fought harder. Rodney was close. But still not close enough. He needed to let Rodney know that he was right there.

_See me, Rodney._

There was a sound. John was almost sure it came from his own mouth. But it didn't sound like a word. It was more like a groan. A whimper. Almost like crying.

_Would Rodney hear that?_

"John, I'm here."

Then there was warmth. On his arm. A touch. And then pain. A tear came without his consent. It hurt so much. Why was Rodney making him hurt?

_Just stay on the arm, Rodney, it doesn't hurt there._

But Rodney didn't hear. And continued to press where it hurt.

John felt like sleeping. Rodney had found him. It was okay to sleep now. He was safe.

But sleeping made Rodney angry. It made Rodney hurt John more. Then Rodney's voice got louder. Not whispering anymore.

_Just wanna sleep._

He knew he could sleep. He knew he would wake up. And they would all be there around him.

So, he slept.


	12. Broken

John looked up.

Everyday. Everyday was the same.

He came. At least it felt like a he. John called him Casper.

John would look outside his cell right after waking up and there would be the shadow. Like a ghost. Just a shape behind the milky glass. Always there for 68 seconds exactly. John counted everyday.

John didn't know how Casper did it. But he was always there. From the moment John woke up, even before opening his eyes, Casper already knew. John would count one minute with his eyes closed, then eight seconds with them open. Or he would count the whole 68 seconds still pretending to be asleep, only to open his eyes and see Casper leaving.

And then nothing else happened. Just a whole lot of nothing. John had tried being quiet, speaking to them, speaking to himself, yelling, punching the glass, kicking the other three concrete walls. Nothing ever happened.

Until John slept. It was always a silent sleep. No sound. No images. Only blackness. Always restful.

John wasn't exactly the kind of person that would remember all of his dreams, but there was always an occasional one. Except for now. Ever since his first day at that place.

He didn't even know how long ago that had been. He just knew he had slept ten times, staying awake for as long as he could, until complete boredom took over his senses.

And then he would wake up.

And Casper would be there.

These days John didn't do much of anything anymore. He had exhausted all the possibilities.

He knew they were feeding him. But he didn't know how. He didn't remember ever eating in all the time he had been there.

Today John had decided he wanted to do sudoku puzzles.

He lost count of how many he did. Before he noticed he was waking up again. And counting. And seeing Casper leaving.

Except that Casper didn't leave.

John counted to 68 two times and Casper still stood there.

He counted again and again.

Then John felt different. He felt pain. A very faint pain in the back of his skull.

His senses changed. There was something sharper to them.

Then Casper produced some friends. There were four Caspers now. All slightly different from the other. If he squinted John could almost recognize them.

John stood. If he got closer he may be able to know who these people were. What they wanted with him. Why they simply stood there watching.

One of them touched the glass. That was different. It had never happened before.

John felt compelled to imitate.

So, John touched the glass.

The glass broke. It shattered to a million pieces and everything disappeared.

Next time John woke up, four shadows stood around him.

When his vision cleared he saw his team smiling around him in the Atlantis infirmary.


	13. Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torture and drug abuse.

He didn't know where he was. When he woke up, he couldn't see anything. It was dark and quiet. He also didn't know if he was alone. All he knew was that he was strapped to a chair and couldn't move. 

He didn't remember being captured. He only remembered being under fire and shooting back. He had no idea what had happened to him or his team, but he kept calm. His breathing was under control. It was a conscious effort to keep it that way. 

There was something about being in the dark that made people completely defenseless. Not seeing the surroundings. Not seeing faces. Not seeing a place to run to. And then, there was something about being tied up that brought a similar kind of defenseless feeling, but for different reasons. Even if he could see where to flee, he wouldn't be able to act. Even if he could see the faces telling him that something bad was about to happen, he wouldn't be able to come up with a plan of escape. 

So, he decided to start the game now. Not showing fear. Only defiance. Whoever these people were, he was not about to give them the satisfaction of panic. It was all that he could do at the moment. He didn't have any idea of what they wanted. 

The planet they had gone to was supposed to be uninhabited. Only some wild life and the regular forests and fields. The planet had a space gate, so his captors must have a ship. That wasn't very encouraging. 

He could only hope he wasn't taken somewhere else.

He heard breathing near him. Behind him. John stiffened. It came closer. John could feel the warm air being blown against his neck and suppressed a shudder.

And then there was a pinch. A short, painful pinch on the line with his shoulder. He inhaled sharply then his body sagged. His breathing slowed down. His head grew too heavy and dropped to his chest. Heavy eyelids drooped and remained half open. He felt warm. Tired. 

So tired he couldn't find the strength to lift half an inch of his head. Even keeping eyelids a slit open was too much of an effort. 

"What's your name?" a deep male voice asked. 

John felt compelled to answer. The words almost fell off his lips without any consent. His brain kicked at him. He kept his mouth shut. 

Another pinch. Something warm flowed through his body. He almost smiled. His body began to float and his eyelids finally closed. His head got foggy. 

"What's your name?"

He wanted to answer. He had the words ready, but his lips were so heavy that they didn't move. 

Rough hands grabbed his face. His head was lifted and salty fingers entered his mouth. They were coated with something slick. The fingers traveled over and under his tongue, then left a sour taste before leaving. His head fell back down.

"What's your name?"

His lips moved sightly. There was no sound. A strong part of his brain didn't let him answer. But a small part wanted so badly. 

Something cold touched his head. It began hurting. First faintly, then increasing. And increasing. And increasing. It felt like his head was being smashed by a nut cracker. 

"What's your name?"

His lips twitched, but his voice kept quiet. Tears filled John's eyes as the pain continued to build.

"What's your name?"

His throat itched and his lips almost parted. The pain exploded and John couldn't hold back the scream. A tear escaped, rolled down his nose and dropped. The torture continued. It increased. John's throat became raw. 

"What's. Your. Name?"

John's body began convulsing. More tears. More yelling. But he wouldn't. He wouldn't answer. Because after the first question it only gets easier to answer the next one. 

John's muscles contracted all at once. He whimpered. Finally, John could let go and allowed unconsciousness grab him. 

\------------------------

John's body felt heavy. Opening his eyes slowly, he only saw darkness. He blinked. He tried twitching his fingers and they moved slightly. Then he realized that he was still tied to the chair. 

He felt a pinch on his neck. 

\------------------------

Unconsciousness had come faster this time. John had allowed himself to fade into it. And he didn't want to come out. This time, he didn't open his eyes. He didn't change his breathing. He didn't even try to move his body. He doubted he could anyway. 

Eventually they must have seen the act. Or got tired of waiting.

He felt a pinch on his neck.

\------------------------

The pain had lasted longer. Unconsciousness had felt like it would never come. Just when the blissful nothing would start to come, they would turn down whatever they were doing and start again. John had nearly let his name escape. Just for them to let him sleep. But, thankfully, his body had given up before his mind. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep it that way. 

He felt a pinch on his neck.

\------------------------

He had started saying the first letter of his name when his brain snapped, kicked, screamed and made John bite his lips with a strength he hadn't been sure he could muster. It had taken only seconds after that for him to lose consciousness. 

He felt a pinch on his neck. 

\------------------------

He couldn't open his eyes anymore. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. There was only fog. Something cold and black surrounding him and penetrating his mind. He didn't have any voice. He wasn't able to speak even if he wanted. 

And, after God knows how many sections, how he wanted to speak. 

Just the name. Just that one small thing. It wouldn't be bad. What could they do to Atlantis with just his name? 

If he said his name, they would be happy. They wouldn't hurt so much. They had promised they would go back to the beginning. To the small pain. To being warm again. 

Maybe he would go back to being able to resist. 

He had wanted to say it. He had moved his lips. But the words didn't come out. They hurt his throat. 

Not even a whisper made it out. 

He had wanted more. He still wanted. Just a small pinch. Just so the cold would turn into warmth. Just so the fog would get a little bit clearer. Just so the pain would fade. 

But it didn't come this time. 

There was no pinch. 

Just the question.

Over and over. 

He wanted to cry.

He wanted to be warm and happy again. Just a little.

It didn't have to last long. Just until he fell asleep again. 

He wouldn't say anything else. 

Just his name.

Just so they would stop for a while. 

But his voice didn't come.

And neither did the pinch. 

\-----------------------

He didn't remember a pinch. He didn't remember talking. He didn't remember even faling asleep. Had he said anything?

John was shaking. He was cold and wet. His teeth clattered. His body hurt so much. 

It burned. It itched. It was freezing and hot at the same time. 

Maybe he hadn't said anything and that's why he was feeling like this. Because he if had said, they would have given him the pinch. They would have rewarded him. 

They knew he was awake. But, again, didn't give him the pinch.

Only the question. 

They were kind to him now. They didn't use the cold metal on his head anymore. They only asked and promised to make the pain go. 

He wanted the pain to go. No pain was a good thing. They looked nice, but it was a trick. There was something inside him that said it was all a trick. But he wanted to believe it wasn't. 

They kept saying that they didn't want to see him in pain. But that he had made it all difficult when he didn't answer them. But they would stop if he answered. 

He didn't know why he still hadn't told them his name. 

But that part of him that though it was all a trick didn't let him say. And the weak part, the one that wanted to speak, listened. 

\-------------------------

He was so tired, he didn't know how he kept waking up. It would only last a few moments before he was asleep again.

But he always woke up. Wet, cold and shaking. 

His skin hurt. His inside hurt. His mind hurt. 

It hurt so much that it made him sleep.

Only to wake up again. 

\------------------------

He woke up with a pinch on his neck.

He smiled.

His body relaxed. It relaxed so much, he felt he would melt. 

He was floating. So high, flying in the dark. Grinning. He had never been so happy. 

It was better than anything. It was better than piloting a jumper. 

This time, he fell asleep with a smile on his lips. 

\-----------------------

He was heavy. John tried to move but he couldn't. He was cold again. Cold and hurting. But it wasn't so bad now.

He was still a little happy. He could almost smile. 

"Where are you from?"

The question had changed. 

Had he said his name?

He couldn't have. He couldn't have. 

"Where are you from, John?"

His mouth went dry. It shouldn't have been so easy. He should have know when he broke. He should have seen it. Been stronger. He should at least remember. 

"Where are you from?"

John felt the cold metal on his head. His heart hammered. Slow, but strong. 

He could stop this right now and prevent everything that came next, but he didn't. 

The pain started. 

\----------------------

There had been no pinch again. And John woke up shaking, cold and wet. It hurt. 

"Where are you from?"

The cold metal touched his head.

\----------------------

It had been the longest time he had stayed awake. The voice he had recovered was gone again. His body was almost convulsing in need. 

But they kept the pinch away.

"Where are you from?"

\----------------------

He woke and slept, and the questions stopped.

There was only shaking and _needing_. 

He almost let tears drop as a beg. But he didn't.

He didn't care anymore. 

He just wanted to sleep and not wake up.

He almost asked for that. Maybe they would realize he wouldn't answer and let him die.

But instead, he slept and woke up. Only to sleep again.

\----------------------

He was flying. 

He was floating in space. He didn't even need a space suit. Nor a jumper. He could fly anywhere. 

He smiled and wanted to ask for more. It still wasn't enough. He could fly higher. He could go farther. 

He almost laughed when they gave him more. 

He wanted it to last forever. 

\----------------------

When he woke up he was shaking badly. He was cold and wet again. It took several moments for him to realize he wasn't on the chair anymore. 

He was on a bed. It was soft and comfortable, but it still wasn't good enough. It wasn't warm. He wasn't flying. He was heavy on the ground. 

But he knew they wouldn't give him the pinch so early. 

Even though he was desperate with need. But maybe if he asked they would give. 

There were no questions. 

No questions. No pinch. No chair. 

He didn't like it. 

He wanted to go back.

He wanted the dark and being warm and flying.

He didn't want to stay shaking and cold in a bed. 

He wanted to go back.

\---------------------

His voice had come back. He only noticed when he felt something burn on his skin. He yelled. 

The burning stopped. There was no touching again. But still no pinch. 

He wanted to cry. He wanted to beg. He wanted to ask for more. They had never taken so long to make him warm.

They had never hurt him so much. 

He wanted to cry.

\---------------------

They hadn't listen. He had asked them. He had yelled. He had cried and begged. But they still wouldn't give it to him. 

He asked if it was because he wasn't answering the question. There was no reply. He decided to say it anyway. 

"Atlantis. It's Atlantis."

But there was no pinch. 

He only heard a voice. It wasn't the same voice. This voice was female. 

"Yes, John, you are in Atlantis."

Burning. 

Burning in his hand. 

That's when he realized. There was no dark. There was light around him. 

He cried. 

But not from pain.


	14. Choices

There is always a choice. At the moment, John is divided between left or right. 

To the left, a maze of mountains and rocks where the refugees can hide, but can't escape if the wraith choose to come.

To the right, the gate and a whole batallion of wraith that could very well not be there anymore. 

He went left. 

They spent the whole night running from a group of drones at their tails. In the end, the C4s helped, but also provoked an avalanche that killed ten people from the group and trapped the rest inside the cave, most of them injured. 

John closed the last pairs of eyes, a pair of blue and two pairs of brown, as he dried the stubborn tear. 

\-------------------------

There is always a choice. At the moment, John is divided between left or right. 

To the left, a maze of mountains and rocks where the refugees can hide, but can't escape if the wraith choose to come.

To the right, the gate and a whole batallion of wraith that could very well not be there anymore. 

He went right. 

They walked right into half a hive ship waiting by the gate. The villagers ran. Some hid. All were culled. 

The team escaped on time.


	15. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made two, because I was unhappy with the first. Now I'm unhappy with the first and second...

**Out in the Storm**  
By _ErikaHK_

Lightning illuminated the night sky. The black water turned silver for a moment before all dived back to darkness. A small stream carried leaves, stopping when they met his body.

John looked up and blinked dizzily. There were no stars. The few far away tree tops were blown apart by fierce wind. They looked like the scary shadows that haunted his bedroom window when John was just a boy. He remembered telling himself to be brave and stay in his own bed every time the strong storms woke him up with a sudden thunder. He didn't cry. He turned to the other side and continued to sleep. 

This time, he couldn't turn to the other side and the rain drops looked like tears on his face. 

John shuddered. He was cold. 

Another slow blink.

He took a deep breath to see if it would take the lightheadedness away. It only made him cough. Warm liquid splashed from his mouth. It ran down his cheek, all the way to the ground. Then it mixed with the water in a whirlwind and continued downstream. 

His eyelids grew heavy. They drooped, but remained a slit open. He opened them another milimeter apart before they fell closed. 

No amount of resisting kept the darkness away.

\-------

It didn't stay long. 

Hot pain brought him back. 

He almost cried out, but choked instead. More blood spat from his mouth. 

He opened his eyes. Slowly, they focused on a shadow in front of him. An aura of silver rain rounded a long red hair. 

"John, we brought a jumper. We will take you to Atlantis."

John let his eyelids droop closed one more time, knowing they would open again in the comforts of home.

**The End**

**Not Alone in the Storm**  
By _ErikaHK_

Ronon turned his face when the wind got too strong. Rough sand scratched his skin while he tried to walk in a straight line. The black shadow that was Sheppard soon disappeared from sight. Ronon had to force his eyes to stay a slit open in between the fingers in front of his face in order to find his team leader again. He gave two steps forward before he tripped and nearly fell.

Looking down, he identified the dark uniform and knelt by the slump quickly being covered by red sand. 

"Sheppard!" he yelled above the fierce storm, but even his grave voice wasn't loud enough. 

Ronon shook Sheppard's body, but got no reaction. They had been walking in that sandstorm for over thirty minutes trying to find the shelter on the cliffs limiting the east end of the valley, but got turned around on the way. Ronon knew they were close to the cave. Staying in the open was too dangerouns, so he picked Sheppard up around his shoulder and stood. 

His knees weakened when he got up, but he remained upright. Ronon lowered his head and bent his body forward as he gave the first step against the wind. 

Ronon had never walked so slowly. 

He also had never stayed out in a sandstorm for so long. 

Being a runner, he had encountered all kinds of weather changes in between one world and the next, so he had always remained near the Ring of Ancestors. Being stuck in a storm could mean the culling of a world. 

Sheppard was the man that changed that. 

Now, being stuck in a planet only meant several hours of wait until a rescue team came. 

And they always did.


	16. Free

Some days, on those special moments no one realizes is happening, John stops only to enjoy and burn them in his memory. 

Teyla’s laugh. 

Ronon’s grin. 

Rodney’s annoyed frown as the two of them make fun of something or another, only to stop and smile too. 

Lately, on these moments, John feels he is going to burst. He doesn’t know if it is going to be a good burst or a bad one. 

Will it be of joy? Of sorrow? Of regret? 

Or the simple fact of being back with the people he most cares in the whole universe? 

It doesn’t really matter. He is back. They are happy and safe, making him feel happy and safe. 

On these moments, John doesn’t feel like there could be any bad in the galaxy. 

When the memories creep back into his mind, contaminating the moment with pain and grief, all he has to do is raise his head and look at their worried eyes. 

He knows they can see it. As hard as he tries to hide and keep it all inside, he knows that they can feel it all the way inside him. It scares him. He doesn’t have to talk, but they know everything already. 

It makes him feel exposed. Vulnerable. Like he is broken. 

And he knows that maybe he is all of those things. He may want to deny it on the outside, but inside, he knows he is everything of that where his team, his family, is concerned. 

For a millisecond, he wants to run and hide. He wants for that special moment to come back. He kicks himself for ruining it. For being weak. 

But it only lasts a millisecond. 

Because in the next, they are smiling warmly at him and he completely forgets the reason behind his depression. 

He smiles too and they go back to laughing.


	17. Hidden

There are somethings that remain hidden. Hidden layers that can only be noticed when you live with the same group of people for about five years. It was a long enough time for even Rodney to know every single concealed mask Sheppard had. He had known the man since a little before coming to Atlantis. They had spent nearly all of their working hours together and, if that wasn't enough, their free time too.

And they never really talked about these things. It wasn't in any of their nature. As bad as Rodney was with feelings, Sheppard was a hundred times worse. Whenever Rodney got uncomfortable, he knew that John was feeling the same way or maybe even worse. Rodney was more than fine in changing the subject then. And John was more than happy to comply.

Before they noticed, they were back to discussing Batman comics, remote controlled cars, computer games or simply making fun of each other. That was them. And they smiled and laughed and everything was right with the galaxy. Then Rodney would pretend they hadn't lost an opportunity to share something personal. He would pretend he hadn't seen the face his friend had been making at him. No. He would simply pretend that the annoying grin had been there the whole time.

He couldn't do that now. He couldn't simply turn his face away and pretend it wasn't happening. Sheppard could beg and yell, but Rodney wouldn't listen. He wouldn't be a coward.

So he continued to look. He continued to stare their torturer, promises of blood and vengeance written in Rodney's blue eyes. If a look could kill, Rodney wished it would happen now.

The man simply smiled. He smirked and the bastard's green eyes sparkled as he raised the whip one more time.

There was no scream. No yell. No cry. There was barely a grunt of pain as trickles of blood seeped out from the numerous cuts on John's body.

Rodney saw and John saw too. Their eyes stared at each other.

John knew Rodney wouldn't go. It was all there. Rodney saw John's eyes begging him. But Rodney also saw that John was a little proud of him for staying. And a little thankful too. And all this was happening right before the man with the whip and he didn't even notice. Rodney almost smiled.

When he looked at the torturer's eyes again, it wasn't vengeance Rodney tried to hide. It was pity. Because the man was doing all of this for nothing. He was just sealing his coffin for when Ronon, Teyla and a team of Marines broke into the torture chamber and caught him. All the pleasure he was getting from this would be brief.

And so was all the pain that Rodney and John were going through.


	18. Hope

"You are our last hope."

John had heard that phrase quite a few times in his life. Mostly since coming to Pegasus. Every now and again, they would be someone's last hope. 

Last hope of defeating the wraith. Last hope of evacuating the sick. Last hope of having a plentiful harvest. Last hope of fixing the damaged technology that protected the people from cullings. 

Today, they were these people's last hope of making peace with their God. 

The team had come to warn about the Hive Ship making way towards their planet, culling world after world in its path. 

At first the people hadn't believed. They were protected. The gods wouldn't allow it. 

Until their trading partner had been culled. It had been a planet from a neighbouring system with only a handful of survivors which were now living among the Fronians. Both shared the same beliefs. 

The first thing John had done after warning them and convincing that the threat was real, was offering help to evacuate people. 

But then he had found out that the Fronians didn't have any kind of evacuating plan. No tunnels, no caves, no nothing. And no friends to receive them, since the only other world they traded with got culled by the same Hive. 

John had offered them a place to go. A new home. They had denied. Leaving their planet apparently was against their most sacred law. 

The same book of laws also offered the solution to problems like these. The council of elders had concluded that this was one of the situations the law should be applied. 

So, once again, John heard the same sentence.

"You are our last hope."

John looked down at the young woman and frowned. Then, he tried sounding friendly. 

"Then, free us." He looked up at the ropes tying him and his team to the pole. "We can help. We have weapons. We can fight the wraith." 

"No." The woman looked down for a moment. "We have to be strong. It's the only way for us to be heard." 

John heard Rodney's indignant huff. "The gods won't reward people that murder innocents," he said condescendingly.

"It's final," she said firmly. "The elders have spoken."

She stepped back and joined the rest of the crowd gathering around the central square. The amount of people had multiplied in the meantime it took for the council to explain the manner the team would be executed. Showtime was near.

"Any ideas?" he asked, hoping for escape.


	19. Lost

"We are _not_ lost!"

John stopped dead in his tracks and talked to Rodney's back. "Face it, Rodney, your sense of direction sucks."

Rodney turned around abruptly. " _My_ sense of direction sucks? Who's the one that brought us here in the first place?"

"Hey, I knew where we were going!"

"Oh, yes, right. You knew." Rodney waved one hand up and down and then in circles. "You already knew as a fact that this was a complete dead end and a waste of time, like _I_ said."

"It wouldn't be a waste of time if _you_ had stayed in the path that _I_ was going." John pointed at Rodney first, then at himself as he said it.

Rodney stepped closer. "Please! You had no idea where you were going. Someone had to interfere before you got us lost in these woods."

"And you did such a great job at that!"

Rodney opened his mouth once, then closed it. Then, he took a deep breath. "I'm _not_ lost! You may be lost, because for a pilot your sense of direction sucks, but _I_ am not."

John put his hands on his hips. "Oh, really? Then where are we?"

Rodney turned and looked around almost a full three hundred sixty degrees. "We are going towards the gate," he finally said. "That way." He pointed North.

"The gate is not North, Rodney."

"What?" Rodney shook his head. "That's not North. It's South."

John almost laughed. "You gotta be kidding me, Rodney. You were going the wrong way all along!"

" _You_ were that one going the wrong way. I fixed our direction." Rodney waved a hand. "South." He waved it at the opposite direction. "North."

"No, no, no, no, no." John stepped closer. " _That_ is North and _that_ is South." He pointed.

"Look, you are in no conditions to be leading our journey. You must obviously have hit your head at the crash. The uninjured person should be the one leading." Rodney turned. "South." He started walking.

"Rodney!" John hurried to catch up. "You are going in the wrong direction!"


	20. Numb

Usually, the few hours immediately after arriving off world with a medical emergency results in an unending wait. It happens from time to time with each one of them. It generally involves Rodney doing the wait with two other members of the team.

Today, waiting with him are Ronon and Teyla.

The first hour is the worst one. It's when they don't know what is happening inside the closed doors of the infirmary.

When the doors open, generally Jennifer or Carson will emerge and say everything will be all right and that another crisis was averted. Then, the team will be either shooed away to take care of themselves (a shower and clothes not covered in blood and mud sound good), but usually they will beg to stay just a little to make sure that heart monitor is actually beeping steadily.

Rodney knows it's a little stupid to stay sitting with a laptop, which keys can be banged from the comfort of a lab and an actual table, when it's a medical fact (or so the doctors say) that Sheppard will only wake up after several hours. But he stays anyway, and quickly takes care of the bloodied jacket by simply dumping it inside the container outside.

One could argue that Rodney would be the last person on Earth, or in this case the galaxy, that would willingly stay sitting a whole night by the bed of a person, surrounded by sick people, needles, vials of experimental vaccines and drugs, viruses and bacteria lurking in every single surface his skin contacts. I mean, he is Rodney McKay, arrogant jerk, bad with people that couldn't care less about someone other than himself. Or so people say.

Actually, he couldn't care less of what people say and think of him.

Well, except when they are saying that he's not a brilliant genius. He cares about that. He really does care about that. Because he is a brilliant genius. But that's not the point now.

The point now is that he is not simply sitting by the bed of any person. He's sitting by John's bed. Just like Rodney would sit by Ronon's, Teyla's, Carson's, or any of his friends' beds, and just like they would do it for him. Because they are family. And that's what family does. Rodney knows that now.

He will certainly complain about the aching back, the sore muscles, the high blood pressure, the little sleep, the overly concern about imminent death, and other many, many issues when Sheppard wakes up, because, after all, it is his fault that Rodney has them now. And he will certainly call him on the stupid hero complex that has Sheppard being genetically unable of denying the cries of a helpless villager. If it had at least been the cries of a beautiful woman, then Rodney could think of letting it pass (well, except for the Kirk jokes), but truth be told, it didn't really matter the gender or the beauty of a person for it to be included in the need to serve and protect of the military personnel, particularly one with a wild spiky hair.

Right now, Rodney can't say any of those things to him. Well, he can talk, that's what he does best, but Sheppard won't actually hear him. It doesn't keep Rodney from trying, though. Maybe it will enter Sheppard's drug induced sleep and root the ideas into his hypnotized brain. It's a working theory. One that Rodney has been testing for the past five years. It still hasn't shown any hints of working.

When a very slight moan reaches Rodney's ear, he can't help but smile. Because it's still hours until the drugs wear off. And because Rodney knows what's coming. And that's why he stays.

There's an expression of pure sleep bliss on Sheppard right now. The dumb face, the silly smile, the eyes that don't want to open no matter how anyone begs them to.

That's the moment Rodney knows John will be all right.


	21. Threat

John stops by the entrance of the long corridor. It is long and dimly lit, the light from the room where he stands fading until total darkness takes over. A quick movement draws his attention and he darts towards it, lungs already burning from running half the medical facility already.

He reaches a dark room, and slows down to a near full stop while he waits for his eyes to adjust. He reaches for his vest and curses internally when he realizes that his lamp was also lost in the previous wrestling match with the patient.

_Great, John, no light, no weapons. Aren't you just feeling lucky today?_

His breathing slows down as he scans the place. It is a big room and now he realizes that it has engines and machines all over the place, forming narrow corridors in between. He licks his lips, apprehension growing with the silence, and moves forward as he follows the general direction the ventilation controls should be.

Narrowing his eyes, he feels the thrumming of his heartbeat increasing the closer he gets to the far side. He hears breathing somewhere, but can't pinpoint the source of the noise in the echoes produced by the walls. He snaps around when he hears the machines turning on behind him and is surprised to be tackled down on the ground, air bursting out of his lungs.

The woman on top of him struggles, holding his arms and pinning his legs as she lowers her head to bite him in the face. He turns away and tries to flip his body from underneath. His attacker is wild and irrational, managing to find her inner virus-induced strength to keep him under her body. She hisses at his continuing resistance and sinks her nails in his arms, drawing blood and scratching him. He grunts at the stings, but manages to slip one leg free, kicking the knee supporting her weight. She collapses o top of him and he's able to turn her over.

As he fights to hold her arms, she punches his nose with the heel of her hand, making him blink tears. She uses the advantage to grab the stolen vial in her clothes. John grabs her arm and twists it, but she's still able to throw the toxin against the far wall. It breaks and releases the green liquid that is quick to evaporate. A sharp piece of the glass rolls over to them and he feels her arm struggling to grab it. She kicks him in between his legs, breaking free from his grip. She reaches over and seizes the shard, impaling him on the side of his abdomen. He is blinded by pain as she sinks and twists it inside him.

Gasping a lungful of air, he is flipped over and feels her banging his head on the floor. He takes a shaky hand over the bleeding wound, removing the piece and piercing her chest, thrusting it deep until she collapses on top of him, dead.

He takes a couple of deep breaths, fighting off dizziness and the black spots dancing in front of him. Shaking his head, he slips away from under her and stands. He holds the wall when the whole weight of his head feels like is going to crash him down again. Drunken steps takes him to the air ventilation control.

His knees buckles. His squeezes his eyes and gets up, swallowing a grunt as he turns off the shafts that would take the mortal toxin to the entire compound. He slips back down to the ground, hands clutching his side in a futile attempt to hold off the oozing blood. This time, he can't resist the dark edges as they take over his senses.


	22. Blood

Dave rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He eyed the time at the corner of the laptop screen and sighed. It was dark and silent, and the badly slept nights were beginning to catch up to him. He shook his head, cursing to himself for all the problems he was left to deal with alone ever since dad...

Dad used to solve things to the best of his ability, to the best of anyone's ability, especially for a man carrying all that he had been carrying. He hadn't needed to have all that to think about. During his last few years, it looked like the unbreakable Patrick Sheppard had found his greatest burden. Regret. If it hadn't been for that, if it hadn't been for all those issues, maybe Dave could be sharing the responsibility of the company with John. 

But John chose his path. One that was as far away from family as he could possibly find. Always the rebel. He had never meant to follow dad's footsteps, but only chose to reveal the information when he came home saying that he had joined the Air Force and that he wanted to fly for the rest of his life. It had broken dad's heart, something that he would have never admitted earlier in life. 

Why did John have to be so selfish?

Dave closed the lid of the laptop and raised to his feet. These were not good thoughts for so late at night. He decided to let everything aside and only resume his worries in the morning. He was halfway the living room, when he heard a strangled bark outside. He stepped towards the window, hoping that the dogs hadn't decided to get into another fight with a fox. Another small cry came, making Dave decide to go outside to shout at the dobermans. 

He opened the door and jumped out of his skin when he saw himself facing a dark hooded man. Dave was stepping backwards, his heart hammering fiercely, when the man fired an electric shock at him and Dave saw no more. 

###

Dave felt like his head was about to explode. His felt fuzzy and he moaned at the discomfort. He snapped his eyes open when he realized that he was sitting on a chair. 

He tried moving his arms and legs and discovered that they were tied tightly, nearly blocking all circulation to his extremities. His heart went back to wanting to jump out of his chest as he looked around and saw only a small cone of light coming from above him, the dim light forming a circle on the floor that faded to complete darkness.

Footsteps approached him and Dave's breathing increased. 

"About time you woke up." Dave saw a man in black suit slowly walking towards him. The man's features were hidden in the dark. 

 

Dave narrowed his eyes to try to look at the mysterious person's face. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The man remained in the same position, halfway in the shadows. "I want something that only your blood can give me."

Dave swallowed. "Is it money? Is that what you want? B-because we can negotiate." 

"Nothing of that nature." He paused. "Mr. Sheppard, you have no idea how small you are." He stepped forward and out of the dark. "And you have no idea of the precious thing you carry inside you." Dave could see the hints of a smile. 

"W-what do you mean?"

The man came close and knelt before Dave. "Let's just hope," the mysterious person said as he took a syringe from his inside pocket, "that your blood is as strong as your brother's." 

Dave leaned his head backwards as the syringe was brought to his arm. He tried twisting his arm away, but it only burned his wrists. Dave held in a grunt as the needle perforated his skin and reached his vein, filling the barrel with blood. 

###

Dave slowly opened his eyes when he heard voices. He raised his head slightly, blinking at the light still lit above his chair. 

"Let him go," Dave heard a familiar voice say. "I'm here. You promised--" 

"You shouldn't trust others so easily, Colonel." 

Dave turned his head and saw his captor tying John to a chair beside him. Dave swallowed when he saw John sliding slightly to one side, only held up by ropes, his face sweaty and pale. John leaned his head back and slowly closed his eyes, opening them again and shaking his head. Then Dave noticed the big red smear on the side of John's light blue shirt and his loud breathing. 

John turned his head and smiled weakly when he saw Dave. "Hey, how you doing?"

Dave honestly didn't know how to answer that question. His head throbbed mercilessly, his hands and feet were tingling, his wrists burned, his head was spinning and he felt like he would throw up at any minute. But that was nothing compared to how John looked at the moment. Dave swallowed. 

"Just great." He almost laughed. 

Only now John seemed to notice the IV coming from Dave's arm and the line going all the way to a bag filled with blood. Dave's blood. The look John shot the their captor could have killed a person. 

"Take that off him." John ordered. 

The man chuckled. "I would happily them off, but since you decided to lose so much of that precious blood all over the car, I'll need both of your blood," he said as he inserted an IV into John's wrist.

 

"I wouldn't have bled all over your car if you hadn't shot me." John said so weakly Dave could barely hear. 

"I wouldn't have shot you if you had behaved." 

The man finished the IV and the empty bag started to fill with blood. The he stood, turned and left. 

John rested his head back and closed his eyes. He started falling to one side, but didn't go far with the bounds on his chest. 

"John?" 

John opened his eyes drunkenly and shook his head slightly. 

"Don't worry," he said, looking like he was out of breath. "They are coming. They won't leave me behind." He was almost whispering. 

Dave opened his mouth to ask John if he was all right, but he already knew the answer to that. When John blinked too slowly and nearly didn't open his eyes again, Dave decided to go for it.

"John, how are you doing?" 

John slowly opened his eyes. "I've been shot, lost all the blood they wanted to steal from me, I'm tied up to a chair in the middle of the desert and couldn't order a pizza if I wanted." He closed his eyes, then snapped them open. "You?"

"A killer headache, dizzy, tingling extremities and I feel I'm about to pass out from all the blood they took." Dave had opened his mouth to continue when John interrupted.

"Sorry about that," he whispered. 

"Why are they doing this, John?" 

John sighed. "Basically, they want something in my DNA."

"Why?"

"Long story." John closed his eyes again.

Dave didn't let him. "It looks like we have time." 

Tired hazel eyes turned to Dave. "I can't tell." 

Dave huffed. Typical. "Top secret government stuff, hmm? Typical." Dave used his frustrated tone.

"I don't feel like arguing right now, Dave." Another slow blink. Dave wondered if John would open his eyes again. 

"Sorry. I-I'm sorry, Johnny." 

John snapped his eyes open. "Don't call me that." It was almost a shout compared to the voice he had been using so far. 

Dave smiled. He knew that would work. "When your friends arrive to get us out, and you continue that lazy attitude of yours, I'll call you Johnny in front of all of them. Then maybe sleepy head, electric hair and mouse nest as well for good measure." 

"It's not polite to mock the bleeding man." 

"And it's not polite to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation." That had John keeping his eyes half open for a full second before they slid closed again. "Johnny." John's eyes didn't open. "John?"

"I'm trying," he whispered. 

A loud bang made Dave jerk his head around. Shooting came next. A lot of shooting. 

"John?" Dave called. "John? I think they are here." No answer. 

It felt like an eternity had passed when Dave saw two men hurrying beside John. One of them was the big man John had taken to the funeral. 

"Hey, Sheppard!" the big man called. He began cutting the ropes.

"Oh, God!" the other one said as he knelt. "Sheppard, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" 

Dave didn't know what was that tone the man had used with his brother, but it worked.

John slowly opened his eyes. "Rodney?" 

"Yes, John, it's me. We're here."

"What...took you...so long?" John smiled.

 

###

Dave filled another cup of coffee then went back to John's room. It was night and the corridor of the hospital was almost empty. Ronon and McKay had left not long ago to get something to eat. Dave imagined they would take a while to come back. 

When Dave entered the room, he saw John blinking at the ceiling. 

"John, you're awake." 

John turned his head to him. "Dave." He frowned. "How are you doing?"

Dave shot an eyebrow up. "I'm the one supposed to ask that." Dave sat down at the plastic chair next to the bed.

"Okay." He placed a hand on his side. 

"Do you want me to call a nurse?"

John removed the hand from his bandage. "No, I'm good." He eyed Dave for a few moments. "Sorry." 

Dave looked down for a second, then looked back at John. "Can't you tell me at least what was that for?"

"No." John shook his head. "Sorry." 

"You almost died, John. I thought I had lost you." 

John's eyes widened slightly in surprise. He looked at his sheet. "I didn't." He looked back up. "I knew they would come. They always do. And for the dying part... well," John said as a smile formed in his lips. "First, it would have been for a good cause, and second, I'm used to it."

Dave was a little taken back with the bluntness and honesty in John's voice.

"McKay said that you traded yourself for me."

John simply nodded. 

Now, it was Dave that looked down. "I don't know if I would do the same." He looked at John. 

Dave was a little embarrassed for revealing that. It was not that he didn't like his brother. He did. But Dave knew that it took a lot of courage to deliver yourself to people like that, knowing that it could be his last deed in life.

John quirked his lips. "Anyone would in the right circumstances." 

"Thanks for coming." Dave smiled. 

"You're welcome, Dave." John rested his head back in the pillow. 

"And I guess... I should apologize too."

John raised an eyebrow.

Dave's smile widened. "For saying one thing or two about you to those friends of yours." 

"You didn't!"


	23. Haze

The fog extended deep on all sides. The night consumed all the colors and only left grey tones on everything that it touched. The forest was covered with tall trees, its thin trunks spread far from each other. 

Silence.

Not even the sounds of small insects were heard. 

John placed his legs apart and swayed without moving as the ground tilted to one side. He took a hand to his head, closing his eyes to regain some focus. He held on a tree when he felt his body falling. He opened his eyes and saw the forest coming in and out of focus, doubling and spinning. 

He swallowed tickly the flush of nausea and supported his head on the trunk beside him, closing his eyes again. 

Knowing it was no use to just standing still, he resumed his wandering towards the gate. Hopefully he would be going in the right direction. 

_Team safe. Get to the gate._

The night, or perhaps only his head, played tricks around him and formed ghostly shapes and mysterious shadows everywhere. Visibility was low. Fog and haze around and inside him almost made him lose the narrow path he was following.

The rhythmic beating of his heart set his pacing as drunken steps took him forward. The only thing keeping him walking was instinct.

 _Team safe. Get to the gate._

He must have walked for an eternity. He stopped once more, closing his eyes and supporting his body on a trunk. 

He almost let himself slide down to the ground. He snapped back up, not taking another second to think about standing still. He shook his head and kept moving.

Slowly, a giant dark shadow took shape in the fog. John blinked tiredly, body bending to the side. He hurried his steps, tripping and almost falling, collapsing to his knees when he got to the DHD. 

He gripped the dome as he stood up, then dialed home.


	24. Need

There's nothing else in his mind. Just haze.

Emptiness. Loneliness.

Abandoned in some forgotten dungeon.

He didn't even know time, or light, or talking. Except with the shadows from his mind.

He dreamed about them sometimes. Happy and laughing. He was there with them. And he would just watch them going about their business.

But it only happened at night. Sometimes.

Other times there was just nothing. Just exhaustion.

He didn't even exercise anymore. He didn't create puzzles in his head. He didn't keep himself busy thinking about other things.

He was just empty. A man left in some dark prison with no one around. Just rock, cold and mold. Not even bars. Just a heavy metal door.

They brought him food and water. Always. Once a day.

They never talked. They never showed their faces. They never came to ask any questions.

They just left him in a small cube for... Weeks? Months?

How long would that last?

Sometimes he felt like sleeping the whole time. Because when he was sleeping it was like he wasn't there. And them he could dream. If he woke up, he would just close his eyes again and go back. Why stay in a humid box if he could go back? And then he could almost remember how being happy felt.

Almost.

When the door opened and brought the overwhelming light, he closed his eyes. They teared with the brightness. Something made his heart beat faster. He didn't know if he hoped it was just another dream, or if he hoped it would be them.

He almost didn't believe his eyes. He almost thought he was still sleeping. But he didn't care. True or not, they were there. If it was a dream, he would enjoy it for as long as it lasted. If it was real...

Either way, he was beginning to remember how being happy felt like.


	25. Glass

There was running. Fast.

And Wind. Cold. Wet.

There was shaking. Trembling.

Pain.

A bright light. A loud bang.

A dark cave. No, a dark mine.

And then came the pain.

There was screaming. John was almost sure it came from him.

And yelling. 

There was red. Red and hot. And piercing.

Piercing agony.

Something hot slowly making his clothes drenched.

Hot blood and cold body.

Cold body and sweaty skin.

Weak limbs and shaking muscles.

A dark mine and a bright light.

And running.

Jumping.

Jostling over something hard. Or soft?

There was moaning. Maybe from him too.

There were voices.

Talking to him.

He didn't understand what they said.

There was darkness.

Blessed oblivion.

Then agony that brought him back to reality.

Only for it to be proved too much and take him back to oblivion.


	26. Sacrifice

They had all made sacrifices. Now, it was his turn.

He had screw up with his family. He had failed his marriage.

He had lost friends.

He had made things worse.

He had failed people he had been supposed to protect.

Elizabeth. Ford.

So many others. Names whispered in the dark.

Sacrifice wasn't hard. It wasn't heroic.

It wasn't any of that. It was just running away.

Not to face reality.

Not wanting to be the one that remains.

Not wanting to cope.

Not wanting to be the one left alone in the end.

They deserved his sacrifice.

He wasn't sure if he deserved theirs.


	27. Fate

According to Rodney, there were an infinite number of alternate universes, one for each choice in our lives. 

John sometimes wondered what he would be if he had made different choices. If he had had different lives, different bifurcations, different paths to follow. 

He could look at those choices now.

But it was also a dangerous tool. One that could lure a person in like a moth to fire.

If you looked too hard, if you looked for too long, you could get lost in all those lives you could have had and forget to go back to your own reality.

Where would he be if he hadn't gone to the Air Force? Where would he be if he had been discharged instead of transferred? What if he had never been in that helicopter in Antarctica? Or if he had never sat down in the chair? If he had said yes instead of no, if he had stayed instead of running, if he had given up instead of going on...

One could get lost in a machine like this.

John raised his P90.

And fired.

No one else would be lost to it.


	28. Awareness

What happened?

The question repeated itself over and over in his head. And each time the answer was a big blank canvas. People would thing that ignorance was bliss, but being completely void of any memory of what had made all of his team end up in the ICU while he only had a few scrapes and a bump on his head, was far worse. 

When John came to himself, he was opening his eyes, blinking away the first light coming through the window in the infirmary. He almost asked himself the same question again. 

He straightened on the chair, biting back the bitterness filling his mind, and raised his head to look at them. He swallowed. They were still deadly pale, only breathing through a tube down their throats, IVs, pads, electrodes and bandages covering their body. 

He stared for a while, focusing, trying and kicking himself for failing. 

Nothing. 

He had allowed them to get like that and didn't even know why. Keller had said it was the concussion. He wondered if it could be more. 

No. He wouldn't think like that. He raised his head once more, only now realizing he had stopped staring at them, and silently wished that they would wake up and that it would be enough to him. They would open their eyes. They would see him and they would be all right. All of them. 

That's how he spent the next two days. 

On the third day, Keller ordered him to go to his quarters to sleep. She ordered. And even threatened to take matters to Woolsey if John refused. He had no choice.

He didn't sleep for one minute on his bed. And he even tried to close his eyes. But every time he did, he would see their beds in the infirmary, without him there by their side. He trusted the medical team, but he was the team leader. Their safety was his responsibility. He needed to be where they were. 

He tried calling back to Keller to ask for an update. There was none. He asked her if he could go back. She didn't allow. He said that he couldn't sleep. She said try harder and then sent a nurse with a pill. He didn't take it. 

He counted the minutes. He tried to remember what had happened. He watched the numbers on the clock. He closed his eyes. He showered. He ate. He stared at a blank computer screen trying to write a report. 

When the six hours that Keller had stipulated passed, he went back to their side. And fell asleep right away. 

He must even have snored and drooled. He woke up stiff and sore, but rested. A nurse smiled at him shyly. He tried smiling back, but his eyes went down to the patient she was tending. And then to the next one, and the next. 

He spent the next two days in the same place. Keller didn't try to shoo him away anymore. Instead, she offered him a bed by theirs. And had a nurse bringing him food. He almost smiled for the small victory. But he was too stubborn to have it any other way. She would have to give, because he wouldn't. 

His mind continued completely blank of anything that happened on the mission. Keller said that he may never remember. He told himself that he would simply have to give himself a few punches for whatever it had been, then ask them when they woke up. 

On the sixth night, they slipped into a coma. John's legs almost gave up when Keller told him that. And more punches and kicks. 

Woolsey came and told John that he would need to go back to duty eventually. Paperwork was accumulating despite Lorne's best efforts in doing John's job. John said that he could do that from the infirmary. 

On the eighth day, John wondered if the bags under his eyes would ever disappear. He was getting plenty of sleep, but was often exhausted. Keller suggested John to talk to someone. John almost turned his back at her, but nodded instead. 

On the tenth day, Keller said they were coming out of coma. John nearly smiled for the first time in all that time. Then, he sat on the plastic chair and stayed. Night came and the nurse informed that the medical staff was pretty sure they would wake up soon. John kept his eyes glued on each of their forms until light came back up. 

His lunch came and he only ate under threat of intravenous feeding. 

It was evening when the first moan snapped John out of his trance. Much to John's surprise, they all opened their eyes at the exact same time. He wondered if they had coordinated it. 

When he saw their confused faces staring back at him, he thought his cheeks would get cramps from smiling. They frowned and eyed him up and down, no doubt to say 'you look like crap'. 

Questioning and explaining came next. John kept his eyes open through it all. The whole fifteen minutes that he managed. It had felt like an eternity. The eternity in which he spent enjoying each moment. Even though he was more out than into the conversation. 

He ended up falling asleep long before they did.


	29. Breathing

John choked and coughed, water spurting out of his airways. He stayed on his hands and knees, heaving and wheezing, and had barely drawn a lungful of fresh air when the firm hand on the back of his neck squeezed and dumped his head down once more.

The shock of meeting water made him swallow a huge gulp of the dirty water while his hands flapped around the bucket, trying to push himself out. He felt another fierce grip, this time on his arms, making them twist on his back. He cried out, liquid filling his mouth, desperation running raw in his veins. Dark spots swam around his head, muscles tired of fighting, the tingling climbing up his extremities. He felt his lungs burning, needing, ready to give up and suck in the water in an involuntary reflex.

John's muscles relaxed and the noise of water on his ears became like a lullaby inching him in, closer and closer, the irresistible urge to sleep too much at this point. The grip on reality loosened, and suddenly breathing didn't seem like an urgency anymore. He was taken away, unable to resist any longer.


	30. Stumble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter

This had been funny. It _would_ have been funny.

But now it was everything but.

John's head was slammed against the mud and he had to turn it in order to breathe. His arms twisted behind his back and John had to bite his lips to avoid crying out when his vision whited out in pain. When his eyes cleared, he saw a sneering face staring at him, the man's knees sinking in sludge.

The sneer relaxed as the man crumbled down on the ground, an explosion of red announcing the responsible for it. A few more well aimed shots soon made the grip on his back ease and John sighed when the pressure eliminated the hot pain on his back.

"Next time," John heard Ronon's voice saying. "Try not to stumble and slide down the mud right into our pursuers nest."

John would have said something in response if he wasn't busy passing out.


End file.
